


Stage

by shadowsorel



Category: Daft Punk
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Misc. - Freeform, post-grammys, repost
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-09
Updated: 2014-05-09
Packaged: 2018-01-24 03:54:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1590728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowsorel/pseuds/shadowsorel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brief Grammys aftermath before a party.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stage

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this an hour after the Grammy Awards. Now I'm keeping it here.

_The applause slowly faded. The building grew less crowded as amorous exchanges were given, ranging from hugs and kisses to pats and compliments. The imagery was permanently burned into their memories. In a good way, of course._

_One will never forget the likes of Yoko Ono and Dave Grohl and even the more contemporary artists dancing along. Heck, the entire building danced, cheering them on as they mixed an amazingly executed tune._

_Even if some have never heard of Daft Punk before._

_The fact that Stevie Wonder agreed to perform with them astonished them, and everything went smoothly._ Better than that, _they thought._

_They didn’t think they had the capability to make literally everyone dance._

The stage is now void of people, bare from sets and instruments. On this very place, they mixed their music beautifully. Twice. Even with the empty stage, they could still feel the knobs. They can still hear the instruments mesh with their mixing, in turn combining with the clapping. They can still see everyone dance, the little not-so-stiff jamming, and the deafening applause still lingered.

It still took some time to relish it in.

Especially after winning their fifth. The tender hugs, the speech, Thomas obviously crying inside the helmet as he lifted the Grammy above his head. Grateful for being recognized, especially after all the hard work done.

They stand at opposite sides of the stage. Both have decided to leave the helmets on, in case one might still lurk.

In what would be absolute silence, a small sniffle echoes through the gargantuan, deserted room. It is clearly Thomas. He is clearly not over it. Who would be?

Especially after one of the greatest moments of their lives.

Silence overcomes the two again as they simply stand there, making next to no movement. They remain like that for what seems like hours. Most of the sets of lights are shut off, leaving the two in near-darkness.

"Thank you," a soft, low voice says.

Thomas smiles as he removes his helmet. “For what?”

"Everything," Guy-Manuel tells him. To most, this wouldn’t mean much. Considering him barely talking, it is more. Much more. Beyond what anyone can imagine.

Two— maybe three— footsteps click throughout at nearly the same time, off by maybe four nanoseconds. The patterns continue as the men grow closer, literally and metaphorically, even if both considered it impossible. But it was. Somehow.

They are face to face. The younger man’s hand entwine in the older one’s. He gazes into the shorter man’s eyes, smiling even wider.

"Your cheeks are wet," Guy-Manuel tells him.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"Without you, all of this would be impossible. I wouldn’t be here, and where would you be? I’m so happy to have you—"

Guy-Manuel pulls him into a hug, one lasting eons longer. Or at least it feels like it.

"I wouldn’t have it any other way."


End file.
